


If You Care To Make A Dare

by TriffidsandCuckoos



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 01:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/pseuds/TriffidsandCuckoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Devil is stalking his merry way through MI6.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Care To Make A Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia'.

The Devil is stalking his merry way through MI6.

The souls are scarred; the sorrow is luscious; the power is intoxicating. He feels at home here. With so many of these humans, it’s only a matter of time before they find themselves in the flames. In so many ways, these little trips are merely an advance viewing of the merchandise. 

Not in every way, though. The first instinct to push him above is, and always has been since realising the truth of his position, the need for entertainment. 

Well, that and a decent conversation.

Bond is unimpressed to see him, as always. “Never the attractive woman route,” he observes, taking another drink. “I think I’m offended.”

“Women stopped being the way to your soul a long time ago, Bond. Makes the lust route unwieldy at best.” He shrugs, and refills their glasses with a single gesture. He watches closely and sees the very slight hesitation – slight, but undeniably there – at the taste of Gordons, vodka and Kina Lillet. Then Bond meets his eyes and swallows it all down.

“So what’s the offer this time?”

The Devil sighs theatrically. “Immortality?”

Bond smiles his dark knife-twist of a smile. “I seem to be getting by just fine on that front.”

It’s true. Then again, it’s also true that the Devil has taken an interest in this case.

“Do you think somebody caught you when you fell?”

\----------

Q looks at the reflection in his computer screen, then at the woman standing behind him, then back at the reflection, and says, “It’s not very impressive if you can’t do mirrors.”

The Devil laughs and copies the form Q is looking at, making sure he projects a little fire and brimstone. Unnecessary, misleading perhaps, but works wonders in cutting conversations to the quick.

“So you would be the source of all those garbled files,” Q says. “I had wondered after the third repetition of ‘immortal soul’. Hardly the sort of language you usually encounter around here.”

“Such a very intelligent boy,” the Devil murmurs, pushing closer, shaping himself so that his chin rests on Q’s shoulder. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any thoughts?”

He feels Q stiffen beneath him – the only reaction he’ll get physically, he knows, but he bets it’s just playing havoc with those precious thought processes.

“Sorry,” he lies, “would you rather I was someone else?”

They both keep their eyes fixed on the reflection; Bond lets his arm drift up across Q’s chest; Eve somehow leans closer to lay her lips on his neck.

“Stop it.”

“You’re no fun,” the Devil scolds, but lets the borrowed images leak away.

“What’s my soul worth, anyway?” Q asks, and the Devil smiles at the obvious curiosity, coupled with an undeniable and perhaps unquenchable ego. Truly a man after his own burnt-out heart. “Do I get to live forever?”

“You could,” the Devil tells him, fingers playing at the nape of his neck, “but no, there’d be no point.” He smiles as he feels Q bristle beneath him. “We both know what you’d spend eternity pursuing, so why not give it straight to you, if we’re trading?

“I’m offering,” he announces, quiet and seductive in Q’s ear, “unlimited knowledge.

“Everything that ever was.

“Everything that ever will be.”

He carefully enunciates every honeyed word; feels Q go still.

“Think on it.”

And then, for appearance’s sake, he disappears into a brief blast of sultry heat and smoky scents.

\----------

He materialises to find a small but perfectly adequate gun pointed straight at his temples.

It is perfectly adequate because he can smell the blessings and the spells and every poisonous enchantment from here.

“Get. Out.”

Eve Moneypenny does not ask twice.

The Devil retreats, and can’t help but feel that he misses the old days.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Lease on Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/611447) by [redcat512](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcat512/pseuds/redcat512)




End file.
